


Run to me

by carxies



Series: I'm still only a human [7]
Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Bokuto is done with Akaashi's shit in the best way, First Dates, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Getting to Know Each Other, M/M, Minor Injuries, Pining, That sounds weird but you will see what I mean later
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-04
Updated: 2017-01-04
Packaged: 2018-08-29 18:18:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,678
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8500234
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/carxies/pseuds/carxies
Summary: “That sounds like a date,” Akaashi mocks in hopes of offending Bokuto, which would mean he could go back to sleep.Bokuto turns to him instead, his eyes narrowed. “You know what; now that you mentioned it, let’s make this a date.” Is Bokuto sassying him?“What? We’re both guys, I must remind you.”“Since when are you the one to follow the system?”Akaashi waits for the moment that Bokuto starts laughing, his loud and annoying laugh that lately makes Akaashi feel weird, and tell Akaashi he’d been pranked and ‘Akaashi you should see your face!’. It doesn’t happen.“I will be cold,” is the first and last thing on Akaashi’s mind. Or, Akaashi keeps running away. Bokuto doesn't let him this time





	1. Chapter 1

The sun is slowly setting as they stand there in the soft autumn breeze, the street around them still busy. Akaashi is a selfish one.

 

“I ran away from home,” he states quietly, the wind tearing the words from his mouth and carrying them away.

 

Bokuto has a sad look on his face as he opens the door wider; one that doesn’t suit his features at all – it gives him an appearance of someone at least four years older. He’s only seen this look once before, when last spring they lost in big match and Bokuto promised the third years to take good care of the team. Akaashi didn’t pay that much attention to it back then, but now, when the look is pointed on him, caused by him, his chest tightens under his hoodie uncomfortably.

 

“Come in,” the older boy says flatly and steps aside, closing the door after Akaashi once he is surrounded by the warmth of Bokuto’s house. 

 

It bitterly reminds Akaashi of the first time this had happened.

 

(If he was asked, he wouldn’t be able to say why his feet carried him here, why this was the first place that his tired mind thought of after he sneaked out of his room and house. Only when he was met with the pair of wide eyes belonging to his captain, he realised that he had no answers, no explanation to give. And it was selfish, Akaashi knows, to show up out of blue with just these five words and wait to see if Bokuto lets him inside or not.

 

“Oh my god! Akaashi, are you okay?” Bokuto called the second he saw him.

 

The older boy ignored the late hour as he rushed towards Akaashi, checking him for any injuries – Akaashi didn’t have any, if you don’t count his wounded ego as he sobbed out: “I ran away from home.”

 

Bokuto hugged him then. It wasn’t like their hugs after won game, happy, full of adrenaline and over in instant. Akaashi wasn’t squeezed in Bokuto’s arms like he is during those hugs, he was _held_ – gently, with so much _gentleness_ that he was surprised Bokuto is even capable of it. It lasted longer than those winning hugs; Bokuto let him cry against his chest until his mother came outside to ask what was wrong.

 

They weren’t close back then; perhaps they aren’t even now, Akaashi realises as he stares at the blank wall. Not that he would like to be close to Bokuto anyway.

 

Still, Bokuto was so worried about his setter, walking around Akaashi on his tiptoes until Akaashi called him out – and that is not something Bokuto Koutarou does. Bokuto Koutarou is the strongest wind; the brightest colour in the palette.  Akaashi wouldn’t want him to be any other way.)

 

Bokuto doesn’t ask questions anymore, not like he did when Akaashi first showed up at his door with tear stained cheeks and sport bag months ago. Maybe he thinks this is getting kind of old now, too. Akaashi knows it is and yet here he is.

 

He doesn’t cry when he knocks on Bokuto’s door these days, but he is as scared as he was the first time, somewhere deep down. He doesn’t know when Bokuto’s patience will run out and he will finally refuse to give Akaashi a shelter; refuse to take him in like a wounded animal. And yet, Bokuto always opens and lets him in.

 

Bokuto Koutarou is a good captain – one that allows his younger teammate to eat his dinner and to sleep under his blanket while he himself takes an old one. Bokuto Koutarou has never demanded an explanation he deserves.

 

Akaashi sometimes wishes he could give it to him.

 

“Have you eaten?” Bokuto asks as Akaashi follows him to his bedroom.

“I have,” Akaashi replies. He watches the other boy prepare the extra futon that stays in his room permanently, shoved in the corner, waiting to be used by Akaashi again and again. It makes Akaashi’s insides twist painfully. How many times has he already bothered the Bokuto family to give him a place to sleep? Fingers of his both hands probably wouldn’t be enough to count on.

 

“My mom should be home anytime now,” Bokuto announces, his back turned to Akaashi.

 

Not for the first time in his life, Akaashi wishes he was better at starting casual conversations. Or any conversation, really, because Bokuto does not help him out in this at all. He simply sits on the floor, targets his narrow-eyed glare on Akaashi and waits. And it is annoying, really, because Bokuto always does that and nothing more.

 

Akaashi refuses to let the glare get to him. He settles across Bokuto and hands him a small piece of paper, previously hidden in the pocket of his pants. “I corrected this for you already.”

 

Bokuto hums and accepts the paper. Without looking at it, he puts it on the top of his desk and it makes Akaashi angry in instant, because _he worked on this, it wouldn’t kill Bokuto if he had a look at it right-_

 

“This is the seventh time, you know?” the older boy says and the air is knocked out of Akaashi’s lungs as Bokuto gazes at him like he’s trying to see into his soul.

 

“I’m sorry,” is all Akaashi manages to reply before he’s rushing to his feet and down the stairs. He’s almost out of the house when Bokuto’s mother appears in front of him.

 

“Keiji-kun, are you staying over?” she smiles at him.

 

Akaashi shakes head, but then Bokuto is there and he is trapped between the two of them. “Of course he is. How was work, mom?”

 

 

**

 

 

“Why?” Akaashi hisses when Bokuto’s mother is preparing them a dinner.

“Because you have nowhere else to go,” Bokuto whispers back, “If you did, you wouldn’t have come here.”

 

Akaashi wonders if that’s the case the whole time he stuffs himself with the delicious food. He doesn’t spare his captain a pinch under his ribs when his mother isn’t looking.

 

 

**

 

 

“Have you thought of being a teacher, Akaashi?” Bokuto asks after Akaashi finishes his lecture about Japanese history in the 18th century.

 

“I haven’t. Why?”

“I think you would be good at it. I mean, you are good at explaining things even to stupid people like me, so that’s a talent,” Bokuto chuckles, his shoulders shaking slightly. “You shouldn’t waste it.”

 

 _You’re not stupid_ , Akaashi wants to say, but he doesn’t – it would be inappropriate to disagree with his captain. “Thank you, Bokuto-san. I will give it a thought.”

 

The older boy smiles, brighter than the sun, blinding Akaashi for a second. “I hope so, Akaashi.”

 

From his lips, Akaashi barely recognizes his own name and wonders if he himself is pronouncing it right at this point. He lets a small yawn slip out as he rubs his eyes.

 

“That’s the fourth time,” Bokuto calls out. He shuts his book closed, the homework having no chance of getting done today anymore. “Akaashi, _an hour ago_ you promised you wouldn’t overdo it, even if it means we won’t finish this tonight.”

 

With another sigh escaping his lips, Akaashi drops the pen on the desk, catching it right before it rolls over the edge. “Kuroo-san promised not to fart when we got locked in the changing room last training camp and he _did_ anyway - welcome to the real world where people break promises, Bokuto-san.”

 

“I suppose that’s true,” the other boy hums calmly, like it wasn’t him who shouted at Kuroo for good ten minutes straight, “But I want to be a man who always keeps his promises.”

“You first have to be a man, though,” Akaashi murmurs.

 

Bokuto gasps. “ _This_! This is why we can never have nice moments, because you always go and are like _this_.”

 

Akaashi rolls his eyes. “Do we have to have nice moments?”

 

The older boy frowns and the question stays hanging in the air as he stares at his messy desk. Akaashi doesn’t think much of the silence surrounding them for a while. However, when Bokuto is quiet for too long, Akaashi realises he might be offended, so he asks again, softer this time.

 

“As captain, I try to have nice moments with the team. I want us all to be close, because we are stronger together when we are close. I try really hard, Akaashi, but-“ Bokuto huffs and brings his hand up to rub his forehead, “You are the only one who never replies in the group chat and never really talks to us, about personal things. I can’t tell if you’re simply a closed person or you just don’t like us.”

 

Something stings in Akaashi’s chest at the words ‘the only one’.

 

“I just have no _personal things_ to talk about,” Akaashi replies, perhaps harsher than it needs to be said.

“Okay then,” Bokuto lowers his voice, looking like he’s been stung.

 

 

**

 

 

“At ten,” Bokuto says before he turns the lights off and the whole room falls into silence. Nothing more needs to be said, Akaashi knows it’s the time when Bokuto’s mother comes to check on them and after that, they’re free to do whatever they want. ( _Oh, how dirty that sounds_ , the annoying voice in Akaashi’s head sings.)

 

 

**

 

 

As expected, Bokuto is up the second the footsteps cannot be heard anymore. “Come on,” he whispers and drags Akaashi out of his bed. If it wasn’t Bokuto’s blanket covering his cold body, Akaashi would probably (most likely) kill him.

 

“Where are we going?” he asks, dumbfounded, when Bokuto throws on his jacket and hides most of the mess of his hair under grey beanie. It looks kind of nice.

 

“Out. If we are gonna to spend the night together, we might as well do something fun.”

“That sounds like a _date_ ,” Akaashi mocks in hopes of offending Bokuto, which would mean he could go back to sleep.

 

Bokuto turns to him instead, his eyes narrowed. “You know what; now that _you mentioned_ _it_ , let’s make this a _date_.” Is Bokuto _sassying him?_

 

“ _What_? We’re both guys, I must remind you.”

“Since when are you the one to follow the system?”

  
Akaashi waits for the moment that Bokuto starts laughing, his loud and annoying laugh that lately makes Akaashi feel weird, and tell Akaashi he’d been pranked and ‘ _Akaashi you should see your face!_ ’. It doesn’t happen.

 

“I will be cold,” is the first and last thing on Akaashi’s mind.

“You can take anything from my wardrobe.”

 

And just like that, Akaashi is defeated for once, without any other objections at the tip of his tongue. It is funny that it’s _Bokuto_ who’s managed to do that.

 

“You know, I could be a homophobe,” he murmurs as he looks through Bokuto’s clothes. Most of it is unfamiliar to Akaashi – after all, he and Bokuto don’t see each other outside school very often. Akaashi has seen his captain in his pyjamas more times than in his casual clothes. For some gay ass reason, he finds few pieces he would like to see on Bokuto one day.

 

“You _could_ be, but you’re the one to judge people based on their choice of furniture, not who they love. You’re not that kind of asshole.”

 

Akaashi almost smiles at the confession of just how highly Bokuto thinks of him. He finally settles for a simple black jacket. “Are you sure we are going?”

 

“I am,” Bokuto agrees with a grin on his face.

“Fair enough,” Akaashi sighs and puts the jacket over his own hoodie.

 

 

**

 

 

“Since this is a date, are you perhaps attracted to boys?” Akaashi asks after they successfully leave Bokuto’s house behind. Akaashi has gotten quite good at sneaking out of houses– _ha ha._

 

“Are you?” Bokuto shoots back, swaying slightly as he walks beside Akaashi. The street is empty, but Bokuto is leading them towards the city that is not yet asleep.

 

“I asked first,” Akaashi slaps his arm.

“Look who wants to talk about personal things now.”

 

Akaashi sighs and digs his hands in the pockets of Bokuto’s jacket. It might be a bit too thick for the autumn night, but it is warm and comfortable – and most importantly, Akaashi can bury himself in it, cover his mouth with the fabric and let the cold zipper rest on his nose.

 

“Well, that’s what people do on dates, isn’t it? Get to know each other. Isn’t that why you called this a date?”

 

“Exactly.”

 

Bokuto grins at him and Akaashi can’t help but think it’s cute how _squishy_ he looks. He’s never thought he would ever use that word to describe Bokuto, but with the jacket up to his chin and the beanie hiding most of his forehead, his cheeks seem to be rounder than they truly are and his nose is red and – _oh, sue Akaashi_ for having a weak moment and having gay thoughts about his captain. He is sure that he isn’t the only one on team who’s had these at some point, not with Bokuto’s muscles on show every practice and his focused face.

 

No one can argue that Bokuto is an attractive one.

 

“So?”

“What about information in exchange for other. You start.”

“Not now,” Akaashi mutters against the jacket.

 

They pass a street light when Bokuto stops and turns to face him. He takes a step, two, closer to Akaashi and gazes at him through his lashes.

 

“Then when? I mean, apparently we have another whole night, but you are not going to tell me anyway, _are you?”_

 

He gives Akaashi _that_ look again, accompanied by equally sad smile, and Akaashi decides he hates that look. But he and Bokuto aren’t close, not closer than any other teammates are.

 

“Of course you aren’t,” Bokuto half whispers, shaking head, and turns away.

 

For some reason, Akaashi feels like he’s just disappointed his whole family. Worse, even. And he doesn’t know what it is that’s coming over him, perhaps the fever of the night, but he _cannot_ let Bokuto walk away like that, with that expression.

 

“Bokuto-san!” Akaashi runs after the older boy, walking backwards a few steps ahead of him. “Let’s not ruin the night at its beginning.”

“That sounds like a plan to me,” Bokuto smiles, genuinely this time.

 

 

**

 

 

“That guy? Totally still lives with his parents.”

“I don’t know, Akaashi.”

 

Akaashi shakes head and throws his fry on Bokuto, who catches it and tosses it back - it lands somewhere behind their table. Bokuto shows the fakest guilty face when some man glares at them. Akaashi laughs behind his palm as Bokuto calls his apologies and it feels like the first time in forever since he’s done so. He punches Bokuto’s shoulder.

 

“Okay, what about that one?”

 

Akaashi scratches his chin and hums. “Probably forever alone, working not-stop and his boss uses him as a stress ball.”

 

Bokuto laughs and throws another fry at him. Akaashi manages to catch it in his mouth and earns an applause he deserves. “Oh, and his _furniture_ is terrible.”

 

“You really caught on that one, didn’t you?” Bokuto smirks.

“I’ve never thought of judging people by their furniture, so thank you for the suggestion.”

 

 

**

 

 

“Do you have the photo yet?” Akaashi calls.

“No, it turned blurry! Last one, I swear!”

 

Akaashi groans but strikes his previous pose nevertheless, hugging the statue with one arm and doing the peace sign on the other. He closes his eyes when the flash comes, illumining the scene of him climbing to the 9.8 feet tall statue. How he got here? Skills. Why? He felt rebellious.

 

And sure, he has to jump down when someone starts shouting at them and they dash away from the crime scene, not even having time to check if this photo is in focus, but they laugh so hard they can barely breathe and Akaashi believes this could be considered as one of the ‘nice moments’ that Bokuto wants that bad.

 

They stop when they are only surrounded by silence again and Bokuto happily announces the picture turned out perfectly.

 

“I have never ever thought you would be the one to do something like that,” Bokuto chuckles and slumps on the bench by the sidewalk. The park is so peaceful at this hour.

 

“Why not?” Akaashi asks, still little breathlessly, as he sits beside him, his head titled back to gaze at the dark sky.

 

“I don’t know, you look like you’re really decent and all.”

Akaashi hums. “That’s what they want me to be like.”

“They?”

“My parents.”

“Oh..”

 

 

**

 

 

“I think it’s time we go back,” Akaashi says and stands up, tugging his jacket down. “I’m already sleepy.”

 

“Then it’s also the time to tell me,” Bokuto groans, his voice rising ever so slightly. “Akaashi, you can’t keep showing up at my door without telling me what had happened! Even after almost two years, I barely know you and I _want_ to know you, I want to know who’s hiding behind that salty facade, I want to know what’s going on with you, _I want to be able to soothe you when you come to me like this._ I always let you in, but you never do.”

 

Akaashi scowls and turns to Bokuto, only to find him already watching Akaashi with worried eyes. “My parents.. They love me. They just don’t love each other anymore.”

 

Bokuto nods. It already early morning and Akaashi is tired, tired after all the running and tired of running away all the time.

 

“They.. They fight a lot. And it is stressful, you know, to sit there in my room and listen to it. I can’t focus there and- At first, it was only small fights and not so frequent, but now.. The second I step inside, the atmosphere gets to me and it’s like I can’t breathe and- I’m sorry, this probably makes zero sense anyway. What I’m trying to say is that even though it’s my home, I don’t feel like I’m home at all when I’m there and I’m more comfortable everywhere else, your house included.”

 

Bokuto doesn’t respond, he only reaches out and wraps his hands around Akaashi’s arms, pulling him an inch closer. “I am sorry.”

 

 

**

 

 

The floor squawks and seconds later, Bokuto’s mother is turning the light in the hall on and is scolding them both for leaving without telling her. They make it back to the safety of Bokuto’s room just few minutes after 6 am, both tired and ready to sleep past noon.

 

“I can’t believe she thinks _I_ have bad influence on _you_ ,” Bokuto mutters under his breath as he undresses.

 

“I can understand why she thinks that, though,” Akaashi smirks and earns a jacket flying on his face. He takes his own clothes off and climbs in the cold futon in his t-shirt and pants, his eyelids heavy instantly.

 

He registers some of the noises Bokuto makes before he finally turns the light off and lies down.

 

“By the way, Akaashi?”

“Hmmm?”

“I do like boys,” Bokuto whispers in the dark.

“WHAT?”

“Goodnight.”

 

“What?!” Akaashi shoots up from the futon and jumps on Bokuto’s bed, shaking his badly-faking-sleep body. “You can’t leave me hanging like that! I swear to god, answer me right now!”

 

Bokuto laughs and looks at Akaashi through hooded eyes. “Are you that thirsty?”

 

“Asshole,” Akaashi huffs and hits him with the closest pillow he can reach. “I only want to know if it’s true.”

“It is.”

 

Akaashi feels his cheeks getting embarrassingly warmer. “Okay,” he murmurs as he sits on his heels, staring down at Bokuto.

 

“I enjoyed it,” the older boy whispers with a sleepy smile on his face.

“I did too.”

 


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Does it hurt much?”   
> “Burns,” Akaashi replies, his gaze wandering, lingering on anything that is not his hand in Bokuto’s. “A little,” he adds, just not to sound like a whiny kid.
> 
> The older boy nods and wipes Akaashi’s dirty palm with a clean cotton pad, before he finally takes a look at the injury. It isn’t as bad as it first seemed when Bokuto opened the door and Akaashi only raised his bloody hand, waiting for a treatment like a wounded animal. Bokuto finds him in that state a lot.
> 
> It is getting so old.

Bokuto’s eyes dance around the room for a second. He opens his mouth only to close it again, like he wants to say something, badly, but Akaashi doubts he really wants to hear whatever it is.

 

No matter how brave face he has put on minutes ago, he still hisses the second the disinfection comes into contact with his sensitive palm, the skin broken and blooming dark red. His body flinches in attempt to pull away, but his wrist is caught by Bokuto before he can distance himself even an inch. He both curses and apologises under his breath.

 

“Are you okay?” are the words that finally leave Bokuto’s throat moments, perhaps minutes later.

 

Akaashi can’t be sure – the atmosphere in Bokuto’s kitchen, with the soft light on and their peaceful reflections on the windows, is somehow lulling Akaashi into a state he can’t quite put into words. It’s the feel after he’s been soaking in the hot water for god knows how long. It’s the feel after he’s woken up by the sunshine on his cheek after a nap. Even the pain that he arrived with is now pushed somewhere far in his mind. At ease is perhaps the closest synonym. His mind is on Bokuto’s touch, so _gentle_ , and his face, so close Akaashi can see tiny freckles on his nose he’s never noticed before. What a shame.

 

“It is not that bad,” Akaashi says. It isn’t the answer for Bokuto’s question, he knows. He is pushing his luck, he knows.

 

“Right,” Bokuto sighs and loosens the grip on Akaashi’s wrist. His hand slides down until his fingers rest under Akaashi’s pale ones, gently holding them in place in case Akaashi’s body reacts without his permission again. “Does it hurt much?”

 

“Burns,” Akaashi replies, his gaze wandering, lingering on anything that is not his hand in Bokuto’s. “A little,” he adds, just not to sound like a whiny kid.

 

The older boy nods and wipes Akaashi’s dirty palm with a clean cotton pad, before he finally takes a look at the injury. It _isn’t_ as bad as it first seemed when Bokuto opened the door and Akaashi only raised his bloody hand, waiting for a treatment like a wounded animal. Bokuto finds him in that state a lot.

 

It is getting so old.

 

However, it’s been a while since the last time Akaashi’s showed up at Bokuto’s door – good two weeks. Upon his return home after their ‘date’, his parents assured him they would try harder to make things work. They did try, Akaashi supposed. At least until the day he arrived home, a grin still lingering on his face because of Bokuto’s story, and he came to the painful realisation that the silence had been only the calm before the storm. ‘ _Why don’t you get a divorce?’_ Akaashi asked that day, desperate and tired, when his mother entered his room to apologise yet again. ‘ _Relationships aren’t that easy, Keiji,’_ she replied, ‘ _Love isn’t that easy. It’s like a playing with fire. You’re still too young.’_ She left him in the room alone with a thick air; his lungs grew heavier with each breath he took. The air in Bokuto’s house was never thick.

 

“What happened?” Bokuto asks as he places the cotton pad on the table, trying once more, directly this time. Judging by his expression, he already knows he won’t be told anything more than he has heard.

 

“I tripped and fell.” It’s not a lie; though Akaashi is talking more about him being naive enough to believe that things could get better - not his feet stepping on his loose shoelace during his sprint away from his home, away from his shouting father and crying mother. Away from the ‘sorry Keiji’.

 

“Oh,” Bokuto mutters, his focus entirely on Akaashi’s hand. “There’s a tiny rock left,” he points out and picks up a tweezers he has already prepared on the table. “Might hurt a bit,” he mumbles.

 

“That’s fine,” Akaashi says and closes his eyes. He feels the cold metal against his skin and flesh, but it’s gone before he can properly register it.

 

When allows himself to look at his captain again, Bokuto is busy with another cotton pad and more disinfection. Akaashi hisses again, though this time the burn isn’t as bad as the first time. He gazes at his palm, now clean, decorated by few little red spots and scratches. It is quite ugly.

 

“I’m gonna wrap this up and we’re done,” Bokuto announces and he straightens up, stretching his arms above his head. His torso looks good like this, Akaashi thinks.

 

“Is it necessary?”

“It’s a problematic spot. If I only put some adhesive bandage on it, it will soon fall off.”

“I suppose you know better than me.”

 

Bokuto looks up at him and flashes him that blinding smile, nodding. “I used to hurt my palms a lot.”

 

“Because of volleyball?”

“Yeah.”

 

Akaashi nods and watches in silence while the older boy sticks a plaster on his palm, placing a small kiss over it, before he wraps Akaashi’s hand in the snow white bandage, as gently as he possibly can – Akaashi barely feels it.

 

“Are you going to stay the night?” Bokuto whispers into the silence. His mother is working late tonight.

 

“Yes,” Akaashi replies immediately. He wonders if Bokuto knows he’s been waiting for that question since the moment he set his foot inside Bokuto’s house.

 

 

**

 

“You should start bringing your own clothes,” Bokuto comments as he hands Akaashi one of his hoodies and the same winter jacket Akaashi had worn the last time.

 

“I never plan on staying, sorry for not being prepared enough,” Akaashi mutters sarcastically. _A big fat lie_ , the voice in the back of his head sings.

 

“Well, I’m always prepared to have you over,” Bokuto calls cheerfully. Akaashi hopes the older boy doesn’t catch the twist of his expression into something almost painful. This is the last time, he promises himself, and pulls the hoodie over his head. It smells like Bokuto, even though Akaashi has never seen it on him.

 

 

**

 

“Did you inform your mother you’re going out?” Akaashi asks, his hands buried into the pockets of Bokuto’s winter jacket, as he watches Bokuto skip and spin while he walks. It is a little past nine in the evening now; the temperature has dropped low, but Akaashi is warm enough.

 

“Did you?” Bokuto repeats with a smirk playing on his lips when he stops in the middle of his spin to face Akaashi. He nudges Akaashi and jumps away just in time to dodge Akaashi’s counterattack.

 

“There we go again,” Akaashi sighs.

“We always end up here,” Bokuto smiles, though this time the smile doesn’t reach his eyes.  Akaashi doesn’t have enough time to study the expression.

 

“Is there something you want to talk about?” Akaashi tries, his gaze fixed on the older boy.

“Is there something _you_ want to talk about?” Bokuto calls, three, four steps ahead of Akaashi.

“No.”

“No,” Bokuto breathes out, the little cloud disappearing in seconds.

 

Akaashi swears Bokuto’s little dance saddens a little.

 

 

**

 

“Try this one!” The flower crown Bokuto is holding is made of huge fake flowers; each must be the size of a fist for sure. Some of them are pastel pink, while others are white, and it might be pretty on its own, but on Akaashi’s head? That is just ridiculous.

 

“No!”

  
“Akaashi! Please!” Bokuto pouts his bottom lip, puffs out his cheeks and makes the damn puppy eyes. He wants to squeeze Bokuto’s cheeks, but he pokes the right one with the finger of his healthy hand instead and Bokuto bursts into a fit of giggles. “Please,” he says again once he calms down.

 

Akaashi looks around, checking if anyone else is having the pleasure of seeing Bokuto at his cutest and when he finds out no one pays attention to them, he turns back to his captain, defeated. How can he say no to someone who gives him a roof above his head? (That might be a little overdramatic, _yes, Akaashi is aware_ ).

 

“Fine,” he groans and bends his knees the slightest so Bokuto can place the stupid thing on his head without trouble.

 

Bokuto still takes a hold of Akaashi’s chin and keeps him still though, with cold hand, while he lowers the flower crown into Akaashi’s hair. Akaashi is distracted by the touch for a second, but it’s soon gone. He straightens up to sneak a glance at himself in the mirror - he only sees Bokuto grinning wide and bright. It makes up for the embarrassment Akaashi feels with a giant flower crown on top of his head in the middle of the street.

 

“It looks so good!” Bokuto calls happily, already pulling his wallet out of the pocket of his olive green jacket. (Who would have known that Bokuto actually had a pretty good fashion sense?)

 

“No.”

“Pleeeaaase.”

 

Akaashi sighs and looks at the stands where the flower crowns are displayed. He finds one, much smaller than his own, with dainty purple flowers. Purple goes good with gold. And Bokuto’s eyes are almost gold, right? The flowers are not pushed onto each other like on Akaashi’s; instead they are distributed equally, along with some tiny leaves. It is decent, Akaashi decides, and stands on his tiptoes to gently place it into Bokuto’s messy hair.

 

“Huh? Which did you pick?”

 

“Why don’t you just look,” Akaashi rolls his eyes and turns away to hide his blush when he takes in the beauty he has just created. His stomach turns and twists and Akaashi doesn’t like it.

 

“Oh, that’s pretty. So we’re taking these?”

“I am taking _that_ ,” Akaashi says and points at Bokuto’s head.

 

“ _Oooh_ , just like a true date, Akaashi,” Bokuto teases him, not the first time. Ever since their first ‘date’, he always finds opportunity to bring it up, whisper in Akaashi’s ear when they’re with team and make him shutter when they’re alone in the gym. Now, he reaches out and shifts the flower crown on Akaashi’s head, his fingers sliding down Akaashi’s hair and cheek before he quickly brings his arm back to his body.

 

“Not a date,” Akaashi murmurs and pulls out his own wallet. He can afford something once in a while. He goes to take the thing off when there’s a cold hand stopping him.

 

 “Leave it on. This is _Tokyo_ , they’ve seen weirder things than this,” Bokuto chuckles.

 

Akaashi supposes he’s right. They pay for each other’s crowns and Akaashi pointedly ignores the weird look by the man accepting the money.

 

 

**

 

“If you move just an inch, it looks like you’re wearing the dress,” Bokuto laughs loudly.

“Very funny,” Akaashi groans as he stares at the wedding dress in the shop window. “Bokuto-san, do you want to get married?”

 

Bokuto turns to him, the laughter dying out. “Married?”

“Yes.”

“Maybe. If it was the right person, yeah. I guess it would be nice. What about you?”

 

Akaashi gazes at the reflection of Bokuto in the window, standing right in front of a fancy black suit, with fake flowers in his hair and honestly, Akaashi has never seen anything more beautiful.

 

“No,” he replies and tears his eyes away.

 

 

**

 

They are back in Bokuto’s house hours later, when they’re both too cold to be outside and too tired to think about next adventure. Akaashi is lying tucked under Bokuto’s blanket in the spare futon, his mind more awake than his body – it isn’t a good mix. For some reason, Bokuto seems to have the same problem as he turns on his side to face Akaashi, his face pulled into a scowl.

 

“Akaashi, are you asleep?”

“No. The light isn’t even off.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Bokuto brushes it off. “I was thinking.. Since you come here pretty often, you could like.. Stay the weekends? Like we could actually talk to our parents and all, and you could always come after school with me and-“

 

“Bokuto-san.”

“Yeah?”

“I appreciate it, but it’s not necessary.”

“Well how I’m supposed to know?!” Bokuto pouts and crosses his arms.

 “I’m just.. I don’t know,” Akaashi laugh, a broken and pathetic sound.

                                                                 

Bokuto looks at him with pity in his eyes, even if it’s only for a second. “Akaashi..”

 

Akaashi groans. “I think I’m going to fail this whole _purpose_ of life, you know. It’s not for me, it’s _ruined_ for me. Getting married, having kids..”

 

Bokuto frowns and climbs out of his bed, sitting by Akaashi’s futon instead, knees pulled to his chest. Bokuto’s eyes dance around the room for a second. He opens his mouth only to close it again, like he wants to say something, badly, and Akaashi dies to hear it.

 

“Getting married and having kids isn’t the purpose of life, Akaashi. For some people, maybe, but yours can be anything. Volleyball. Getting that adorable bunny we saw the other day, do you remember? You wanted to buy that one because it had red eyes and you said no one would buy it and love it because of it. Anything, Akaashi. And no one can tell you what your purpose in life is either, only you can.”

 

No matter how brave face he has put on minutes ago, Akaashi feels his eyes getting wet and his arms reaching out without his permission, reaching out for Bokuto and pulling him down until his weight is settled on Akaashi’s body and Akaashi is hugging him like he hasn’t felt a human touch for years. He feels like that, a little.

 

“I mean it,” Bokuto whispers and places his palms beside Akaashi’s head, holding himself up above Akaashi as he gazes down at him. “I have no idea what’s going on in your house,” he says and adds in a childish tone, making Akaashi chuckle instead of crying: “ _because you won’t tell me.”_

 

Akaashi sniffs and Bokuto finishes his speech. “But you should remember this.”

 

“I will.”

“Good. Should I stay here?”

 

Akaashi blushes and pointedly avoids Bokuto’s eyes. “No.”

 

“It’s okay, quite nice way to end a date,” Bokuto mutter nonchalantly.

“It _wasn’t_ a date.”

“It totally _was_.”

 

Akaashi rolls his eyes and Bokuto sticks out his tongue, before he lies down next to Akaashi, tugging on the duvet until Akaashi shares a bit of it. Bokuto’s bed stays forgotten completely that night.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Aaayyyy, I wanted to write something so badly today and I really, really like the set up and atmosphere of this and I didn't want to write a brand new fic, so I decided to write another part for this baby (finally). I definitely want to write more for this piece, to tell more stories and show more adventures, but who knows when that will happen..so for now, I'm gonna leave it as finished, but I'm not forgetting about this (it has become one of my faves)
> 
> Bo and Akaashi still aren't exactly together, but they are getting there, don't you think?

**Author's Note:**

> I might write second part, but who knows


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